Who Dat Whodunnit Read Online Free PDF

Leslie—but the rest of the room was quiet, everyone too stunned to say anything.
    “Hi,” Tara said, flashing her pageant smile as Mom reached her. She stuck out her right hand. “I’m Tara, and you are…”
    “Someone who hates your homophobic guts,” Mom replied, tossing the contents of her glass into Tara’s face. Tara stepped back, her perfectly coiffed hair sparkling with drops of wine, her makeup ruined, and rivulets of reddish purple liquid dripping from her chin and streaking down her bare neck and shoulders into her deep cleavage. Her dress was ruined, a huge stain on the front of it. Her eyes narrowed and she slapped Mom. “You bitch !”
    No one moved as Mom slugged her with a right hook she usually reserved for security guards at nuclear power plants. Tara went over backward and vanished from view into the hallway—except for her feet in her stiletto heels.
    I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
    “Bravo!” Marguerite got out of her chair with a glare for my grandfather. “Storm, take me home. I have no desire to share a table with that”—she sniffed disdainfully—“piece of Kenner trash.”
    Frank managed to disentangle himself from Enid’s clutches and nodded at me. There was a sort of stampede for the door. Jared was helping Tara to her feet as I went by them on my way to the room where Louisa had deposited our coats. Her nose was bleeding. Jared was murmuring to her, and she was crying. For a brief moment, I felt sorry for her—she was, as my sister-in-law had so snobbishly put it, Kenner trash. I would imagine it was a big deal to her to be invited to the home of a society family on State Street in New Orleans, and she’d hardly made the kind of impression she would have wanted to.
    Then I remembered all of her speeches and public appearances, demeaning Frank’s and my relationship as something perverted and abominable, and whatever sympathy I had for her went right out the window.
    “I guess this is an improvement,” I said over my shoulder at them. “At least this one isn’t stripping on Bourbon Street—yet.”
    Frank tossed me my coat, his face rigid and red. He was furious—I could tell by the muscle tic in just below his scar. “Come over,” Mom said as she and Dad went out the front door. “We’ll have a family gathering.”
    The last time I saw Tara Bourgeois alive was when I paused in my grandparents’ front door and looked back. She was seated in one of the hallway chairs with her head tilted back, and Louisa was holding a burgundy towel to her nose.
    I shook my head and slammed the door behind me.

Chapter Two
    Ten Of Cups
    Lasting happiness inspired from above
     
    “I still can’t believe you slugged her,” Frank said, a delighted grin on his face as he unwrapped his cheeseburger.
    We were sitting on the huge sofa in the living room of my parents’ apartment. The temperature was dropping, and a cold night wind was whipping around the building. The wind was rattling the shutters on the balcony doors, like it was trying to get in. The air was heavy and damp, which meant rain later. I was hoping the rain wouldn’t start until we got back to our own place. I shivered just as the central heating clicked on. Mom wasn’t a fan of central heat—she said it felt canned and stuffy, so she rarely used it. Usually, I agreed with her, but now I was glad to hear it come on. It felt like it was less than fifty degrees inside. My nose and ears felt like they had frostbite, and even the wool blanket I had draped over my legs wasn’t helping much.
    The hot air coming out of the vent just behind the couch was heavenly against my neck.
    Mom had offered us leftover tofu lasagna, but we’d politely ordered burgers from the Quartermaster Deli instead. It was just the four of us. Storm and Marguerite had conveniently gotten a call on their way to the Quarter from friends with an invitation to dine at Galatoire’s, but were coming by for drinks after they finished dinner.
    I